Has Anybody Seen My Gal?

Sutton Strother When her father died, Granny couldn’t afford a casket. She refused everyone’s money, and in the end, when she could think of nothing meaningful to do with the ashes they brought her, she poured what was left of my great-grandfather into the kitchen trashcan. “He’ll get where he’s going, anyhow,” she told us.… More

Sam Lipsyte

Ben sits down for a discussion with author Sam Lipsyte, one of the brightest and funniest voices in contemporary fiction. More

Albany Journal – Monday 7/2/12

I’m very excited about traveling up to the Writers Institute in Saratoga Springs this evening.  It’s another hot day here in Albany, and so I can’t wait to feel the cold as it confronts me while walking directly into one of the College’s many auditoriums that have air conditioning.  In my humble abode here in… More

Poe in Love

Howie Good 1 A man jammed fistfuls of earth into his mouth. And why not when nations sell weapons to their enemies? The weather arrived late, a funeral with only four mourners. All his life he liked to wander through cemeteries. If everyone is doing it, someone said, it must be OK. 2 Probably the… More

To Raimund Hoghe

Allyson Paty By what grace can two men stand in equal stillness while each minute settles like exhaust when it rises and drifts to the edge of the city. There is the man who musters his snake limbs. There are the stones that he shakes against his chest. Then you, Raimund. On what nerve do… More

Writer’s Brock – Wet World 1

I have often found myself wishing my life were dramatic enough to make a great narrative. Moments in it were that way, but only to the extent that they offered material for a self-indulgent, episodic piece or two. Until recently, there had been no great adventure to my tale that could hold the threads together long… More

At a Co-op in Austin

Jameson Fitzpatrick All week I’ve been drinking in the morning instead of reading the news. Now a pretty shorthaired girl says we’ll be bombing Libya by tomorrow— but tonight there’s a rumor of fireworks, and a burly blond’s chosen my waist to wrap a bulging arm around. He’s a tank of a man, with thick,… More

The Babysitter

Jameson Fitzpatrick Years later, I ride my bike past his house and he’s washing his car in the driveway, the garden hose coiled at his feet, suds running up his arms. (Is his shirt off, or do I imagine that later, in the shower?) I’m surprised at how handsome he is. I’m eleven now, which… More

Sell Out

Saramanda Swigart 1. Twins, Age 34 Small One-Bedroom Apartment, East Village, Manhattan The knocking lasts an hour and forty-seven minutes. As always, the neighbors stay quiet. I lie still, listening. It begins timidly at 1:32 a.m. and ceases at 2:49 a.m., according to my bedroom clock. I keep the clock six minutes fast, so truly… More

Mark Ryden

The Gay 90’s: Old Tyme Art Show featuring the work of Mark Ryden opened on April 29th at Paul Kasmin Gallery in New York City and runs through June 5th. If you’re in NYC, this exhibition is not to be missed. Ryden’s beautiful works framed in immaculate hand carved wood invite a good look and promptly challenge with rich symbolism… More


I went to hear the New York Philharmonic last week with Tatiana because our family friend was singing. They did three pieces by Stravinsky. It felt classy as shit stepping out of the train with my lady, dressed up and going to hear some art. The music was something else! The sounds of the orchestra… More

First Frost, New York

Michael Tyrell Continually, as October weeds out the majority of false Edens, the hollow Eve finds us sweet teeth bobbing for apples. Scratch us so we can start over, so we can turncoat through iron-maiden turnstiles. Crosstown ride where the Lord give uth and take uth away, flasher whose jimson got jammed in slamming doors.… More

New York

Benjamin Evans It is the steam of ideas, addiction, and 9 million tenant farmers confusing their nesses: Forget, Forgive Cut fingernails on microchips and monitors, battle exhaustion in a city the zeitgeist claims never sleeps. It is where the black haired, black eyed women, angular and dripping mystique, haunt the cement caves below ulcered Dominican… More